


Intimacy; defined

by dumbbottomenergy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Complete, Dorks in Love, Drama & Romance, F/F, Fluff and Angst, LGBTQ Character, Light Angst, Self-Discovery, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22321750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbbottomenergy/pseuds/dumbbottomenergy
Summary: Drew has lived her entire life not particularly repulsed by sex, but more or less indifferent to it. When starting to question herself and her sexuality, she tears apart everything she's known as she tries to give a new definition to the term: intimacy
Kudos: 10





	1. intimacy; a question

Pushy, invading fingers touch my body. I’m numb. I tune out and replay my favorite movies in my head. My go-to for these nights is Nemo. It’s my favorite. 

I moan at all the right times. I speak the filthy words she begs to hear. I push and pull, following the movements of her body with my own. I feel nothing. It’s all empty words, empty promises, empty moans. My mind plays Nemo on repeat, tuning out her blissed-out whimpers in favor of the little orange clownfish. It makes these nights all the more bearable.

When it’s over, she cuddles up to my side and praises me. Hot air floats over my neck as she tells me how good it was. How good  _ I  _ was. I wonder what she’d do if she knew that I don’t think about her. I never do. It’s too painful.

I suppose I should feel guilty about leading her on like this; I should end it. I should be honest with myself and with her, but I’m selfish. She’s amazing and she’s mine. Funny, brilliant, radiant, happy, optimistic, caring and mine. I don’t want to let her go. 

Our dates are magical. Waking up next to her in the morning fills my heart with joy. The way her brownish-red pools sparkle when she sees a cute animal sends my heart into overdrive. Everything about our relationship is perfect from our blissful domestic mornings to our long workday routines, to our soft sleepy evenings. 

It’s just sex. I don’t understand it. Why it’s necessary, why it matters. I don’t feel anything, but that has to be my fault. 

I always thought that when I love someone enough, the sexual attraction will come. I know I love her. There’s not a doubt in my mind, so why isn’t it there? 

Some days I stay up, holding her blissfully fucked out body close, wondering what would happen if I tell her the truth. The possibilities haunt me. Would she leave? Would she yell? Would she break up with me, leaving me shattered and in pieces as she goes to find someone new? Someone who could return those feelings? 

There are so many other ways to be intimate other than sex. So many ways that I know show my love for her without having to shove my fingers in her, without having to caress her body with my mouth. It’s not bad. It’s not even terrible, I just don’t get any pleasure out of it. 

I’m a terrible person. 

My heart pushes against the seams at the feeling of holding her naked body close to mine rather than fucking her senseless. Waves of pleasure knock me down when I see her laugh, or smile, or seeing her eyes light up as she tells me about an exciting part of her day. I feel like moaning when she holds me close after a particularly long day and I revel in the warmth that her body radiates. It’s a beautiful feeling. 

Loving her is a beautiful feeling. 

I look down at the bare beauty in my arms. Drooling, hair a mess, sweat beading on her forehead, and still, I couldn’t imagine another place I’d rather be. I couldn’t think of someone more radiant, not in my wildest dreams. 

Unraveling myself from her tight hold, heart-clenching at the whine she let escape, I kiss her forehead before escaping to the bathroom. I want to shower. I need some time alone. To think. 

The water pulses a few times before the constant, real sound of droplets hitting the tub helps clear my mind. I step in, hot water hits my body like little snaps of a rubber band. I relish the burn. I relish the pain. 

What will I do? 

What  _ can _ I do? 

  
  
  


An hour later, I am dried, dressed and even more conflicted than I was before. I couldn’t go back to sleep, couldn't hold her when I don’t deserve to. I stayed in the small living room. Taking one of the pills from the many bottles in the cabinet, all of which belong to her, but I just need something, anything, to quiet my mind. Even for just a little while. 

When I was younger, my friend used to call me “asexual”. I had no real understanding of the term, only a vague definition that I didn’t pay much attention to, but I hated it. I hated how she said it with such confidence. How dare she acts as if she knows me? How dare she try to label me? What gives her the right? I don’t know what I am. I don’t know who I am. That’s for me to discover by myself. She, nor is anyone else for that matter, allowed to do it for me. 

I haven’t thought about that word. I hadn’t given it any attention. Until now. 

So as the sun rises on this rainy October morning, I open google and I type,

‘What is asexual?’ 


	2. intimacy; an endless thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the thoughts start to consume :3

Days meld into weeks and they blur into months and I am nowhere closer to understanding, or better yet, accepting who I am. I’ve read so many articles about asexuality that I’ve lost count. Night after night, I sneak away, banish myself to a night on the couch as I go through articles. My lunch break is no longer filled with eating and carefree laughter with my coworkers. No, now it’s endless time spent at the library reading books. Trying to understand me. Trying to understand intimacy. 

Intimacy. 

My concept has changed. My definition of it rattled around in my mind. Is it valid? Does it make sense? I know there are multiple ways to be intimate, but how will she feel? Does Braxton know? Will she understand? 

Anxieties flood my mind daily. It’s hard to sleep around her. It’s hard to breathe sometimes. I wonder if she’ll leave me. I wonder if she’ll love me. It’s getting hard to lie to her day after day. I’ve never been good at it, but she can read me better than anyone. It’s amazing that after all this time she hasn’t picked up that I’m numb to the sexual aspects of our relationship but maybe she’s too blissed out to ever notice. 

I don’t understand why this bothers me so much. I never liked sex, never had a particularly specific want for it, but for some reason reading about it, and drilling it into my mind makes it all the more real. 

My feelings feel jumbled, like a messy ball of yarn that I can’t seem to detangle. A big part of me wants to be wrong. A part of me wants to go back to that day in October and never open google in the first place. A part of me wants to go back to being ignorant, but I know that wouldn’t make the situation better. 

They say asexual people can be in successful relationships. Doubt fills my mind. 

I fear my once loving relationship might be over. 

A couple of nights later, Braxton wanders into the living room at around 3 am. I am reading a book called ‘Understanding Asexuality’. 

The room is dark, save for my tiny book light. The cover is almost pitch black. I’m unbelievably grateful she can’t see what I’m reading. 

Looking at cute as ever in her pale blue plush robe and her big round glasses perched messily on her face, I can’t help but feel overwhelming love for her. I know I don’t deserve her by any means, but fuck, I love this woman so much. 

“Drew?” The way my name tumbles off her sleepy lips makes me smile. I am so lucky. So extremely, unbelievably lucky. I fold the book up and put it on the coffee table, face down. My arms extend, a silent invitation that she gladly accepts. 

She walks over to the couch and I waste no time before wrapping her up in my arms; cherishing, protecting, and loving her. She curls herself into me, laying her sleepy head on my neck. Planting soft kisses that she knows will make me giggle. She’s not wrong. 

“What are you doing up?” Her voice is soft, delicate, like a flower. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

There’s a pregnant pause and the air around us feels tense. She wants to say something. I hold her tighter and let her take her time, but the words that leave her lips make me freeze. 

“It’s been like that for a while. Is..” She stops, her words die into hesitation as she thinks of what to say. How to continue. I don’t want her to. I’m afraid of what she’ll say next. Does she know? If she knows I’ve been sneaking out of bed, what other stuff does she know? 

She pulls back, my arms leave her soft body as she sits up and stares at me. The light from the busy city streets illuminates her face. She slips her hand into mine and I can feel love emitting from her being. 

“I love you. I will always love you. And if there’s something bothering you, I want you to feel comfortable and safe enough to voice that with me. I see you sometimes,” Her voice starts to waiver and my heart cracks. She’s going to cry. I keep my head down, I don’t dare look. I’ll start crying too.

“The way you zone out when we’re having sex. But you look so scared all the time now. I-” A choked sob escapes her lips and my head snaps up so fast I’m afraid I’ll get whiplash but I don’t care.

Nothing in the world should ever hurt her. But isn’t that what I’ve been doing? 

I rub circles into her hand with my thumb. ‘I’m here’ the gesture speaks quietly. I want her to know that I’m sorry. That I love her too, but I can’t seem to force any words out of my mouth. 

“I don’t know what’s happening to you. I want to be there and I want to help, but only if you want me to. I love you so fucking much that it hurts, Drew. I want to see you happy, I want to see that beautiful smile.”  
Her hand reaches up to cup my cheek and she runs her thumb over my lips. The gentle touch sends lightning bolts through my body. I don’t focus on that. Tears are free-flowing, and they’re fast. Out of her beautiful eyes, down her soft cheeks, falling off her chin and onto the navy blue couch, leaving a dark wet stain there. A reminder of how much she was hurting right now. 

Have I really been this wrapped up in myself that I hadn’t noticed? 

“It’s been months since I’ve seen that beautiful smile.” And the pain that tears through that one sentence, pushes away all the strength I thought I had. I can feel the hot stream down my own face as my chest tightens and god, I just can’t take it anymore. 

I pull her close, hold her tight like at any moment she might fall apart. She already is. I can feel myself unraveling too. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you too, Bax.” I pull her impossibly closer. I can feel her tears on my neck. Her heartbeat loudly in my ears. Or is that mine? I don’t know anymore. 

“I love you too,” I whisper. I hope she heard. I hope she knows. 

She needs to know.


	3. intimacy; shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tensions rise owo

For a while, all is silent. Not calm, but silent. Expectations still hang in the tense air. We’re still holding onto each other, like a drowning person clutching onto their last dying breaths. 

Sobs wracked our forms earlier, they tore us apart from the inside, begged to be let free. It was loud. It was scary, but now it's silent. We’re quiet, down to the occasional sniffle, as we wait to see who will break the silence first. 

“Do you...” 

Oh. I guess Bax will break it first. A tentative smile spreads across my lips. She’s always been the more forward one in our relationship. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with her. 

“Want to talk? We don’t have to tonight... if you need more time.” 

She’s so patient, so caring, so accepting. Accepting. I could tell her anything and it will be safe. I’ve always felt so safe with her. I don’t know how I ever doubted her. 

Still, I’m not ready. 

I shake my head, no. My head doesn’t move from her shoulder, and I can hear her small, almost non-existent sigh. Exhaustion? Anger, maybe? Frustration? 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I am. I truly am. 

“No, Drew, no. It’s okay. I just wish I could help. That’s all.” I hold her tighter. Please don’t leave me. 

“Me too.” 

The next few weeks passed in a blur. A blur of passive smiles, small talk, and yelling. Lots of yelling. Mostly me, lashing out because of fear. 

Anxiety runs through my veins, my blood. It takes over my mind and heart. The most sensitive parts of me are consumed, drowning, in everlasting fear. 

Fear of the inevitable. Fear of the unknown. Fear of having our talk, whenever it may be. And god, is Bax patient. Oh so patient, but everyone has their limit. 

Another meaningless sleepless night, another meaningless day passes by, but I take solitude in my space on the couch, tucking my legs under my body, clicking my book light on and begin reading. 

Bax comes out into the living room. Checking on me is a nightly occurrence now. It makes it harder to hide things. She knows this. 

Still, it’s instinct when I shut the book and tuck it away. I’ve moved on a new book by now. “Invisible Orientation” and though the big bold letters don't give too much away, the subtitle sure does and, damn it, I’m just not ready. 

“How long until you come to bed?” 

“I don’t know.” Don’t get snappy with her, what the fuck is wrong with you? She’s being so caring, so sweet. 

“Was today a bad day?” That tone. So soft, so welcoming. I don’t deserve her love. Her care. She deserves someone better.

“No.” What is going on with me? 

“Is everything o-” And damn it, those words, those soft, open, welcoming eyes, and her warmth and fuck, her love is just so overpowering and I love it and I hate it because I don’t deserve it and all the fear, and the anxiety and the shame, and the doubt is pounding and screaming and- 

“NO! SHUT UP!” 

Fuck. No, wait. No. Fuck, I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry. 

And then the tears, and then the sobs. Those heartbreaking, breath-stealing, body-wracking sobs that I caused are falling and they are loud and they are deafening. And she’s yelling.

She never yells. 

In a blur of screams, tears, and anger, so much anger, there are glasses shattering and flinches and broken windows. There are keys being grabbed, doors being slammed, and then I’m alone. 

Wondering how the hell, I’ve managed to get myself here. 

Seconds pass by like hours. 3o seconds. 33 seconds. 46 seconds. Isn’t she back yet? 

No, it’s been less than a minute. It feels like so much longer. It feels like an eternity. My heart beats loudly in my ears, a reminder that I’m still alive.

I want it to go away. I don’t need a reminder. 

Broken glass. Shattered pieces surround me. I can’t help but think that amidst the glass, shattered pieces of our relationship sit on the floor too. 

I step over piece after piece, moving to grab the broom. The least I could do is clean. I fucked up, why don’t I try fixing something for a change?

Glass clinks together as I sweep. The shattered glass will never be the same, even if you pick up all the pieces. Even if you glue them back together. It will never be fixed. It will never be whole again. My vision blurs and warmth falls over my face. 

Will we? 

Hours later, my phone beeps with a text. I snatch it with haste. It’s almost 7 am and I haven’t heard anything. Not that I deserve to, but please, just let her be safe. 

"I need some time alone. I’m staying with a friend for a while. Be safe. Love you."

My mind reels. ‘Love you.’ She still loves me. It will be okay. We will be okay. Relief washes over me like a strong wave. 

"Take all the time you need. Be safe. I’m sorry. "

I hesitate. 

"I love you, always."

Read 7:01 am.


	4. intimacy; progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drew starts her journey to recovery/ healthy habits

A week is spent in bed. Minutes faded into hours which melt together into days. I feel like a zombie all the time. Not speaking, not thinking, not eating. Letting the guilt of that night eat at me until I’m nothing. What I said… what I did. God, I really am the worst person on the planet. 

I ruined the best thing in my life because of fear. If only I had talked. If only I had opened myself up. Given her a chance. She deserved so much better. 

One cloudy fall afternoon, I am trudging myself back to what used to be my home, but is now just an empty broken shell, with some groceries when I see her. In her favorite bakery, wearing one of the multi-colored beanies that she loves, laughing as she takes a bite of cake. She looks so happy. 

I feel myself start to cry, but I can’t bring myself to care. I just take a couple more moments to admire her. Happy, smiling, silly. I love her. I really love her. 

I want her back. 

I spent the next few weeks trying to better myself. Trying to get a handle on all these feelings. I need to. For her. For me. 

I book a therapy appointment. I don’t go for the first few times. I chicken out but damn it, I’m not giving up. I reschedule and reschedule. The lady who picks up the phone is never angry. She just lets me know the next available date. It helps. 

I start exercising, religiously. The excess energy needs an outlet. Exercising helps. The music blasts away any unwanted thoughts. The energy leaves. I feel exhausted. Exhausted, but… better. 

I start sleeping, not without help. Melatonin gummies from CVS. Fifteen dollars from CVS. I’ve never been more grateful, or more willing to hand over a twenty. 

They are small steps, but they are steps. She deserves better. I want to be better. 

We haven’t spoken. I give her the time and space she needs. Whatever she needs. It keeps me going. 

I go to my first therapy appointment. It’s weird. There’s a lot of questions. But the room smells like lavender, there’s a bowl of lifesavers at the doorway and somehow, in the small, brown room, I feel like I can breathe again. 

I schedule as many appointments as possible. Twice a week. Monday and Friday. 1 pm. I never miss. I talk through everything. From the fear, the shame, to doubt, to the anger. She listens. She gives me all the time I need to compose my thoughts and just... listens. 

I feel safe for the first time since Bax left. 

Two months later, I get a text. 

"I’m coming home. We need to talk."

My heart pounds as I try not to think of the worst. ‘We need to talk’ could mean anything. Breathe. Breathe. Inhale, two, three, four. Exhale, two, three, four. 

"Okay."

I spend the day at the gym, expelling all the pent-up nervousness and excitement about seeing Bax again. I get home and clean. I buy her favorite cinnamon oatmeal cookies at the bakery that she likes and make two cups of tea. Mint, her favorite. 

She said she’d be here at 7. I anxiously watch the clock. 

6:59. Seconds tick by. 

20, 13, 10, 7...

There’s a knock at the door. Bax has been such a stickler for being on time. It’s precious. I take a few deep breaths before standing up and clutching my shirt. Cursing myself for wrinkling it, I smooth it out and clutch the doorknob. 

Here I go.


	5. intimacy; a talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they talk :3

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Jeez, is that the understatement of the year. 

I had forgotten just how breathtakingly beautiful she is. How the light bounces off those beautiful pools of chocolate, how deep the red on her nose and cheeks and ears are in winter and how they beautifully contrast with her pale face. How her curls fall so naturally over her shoulders, an elegant frame for something that magnificent and how she really doesn’t even need it but it’s so silky and smooth and soft and you could get lost running your fingers through it. 

“Drew? You’re staring,” The blush on her cheeks deepen, if that was possible and she twists her hat nervously in her gloved hands. Nervous habit. Albeit, not wanting to, I tear my eyes away. She probably doesn’t want me staring. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“No! I just…” She trailed off, my eyes searching hers for something. I don’t know what. “You haven’t looked at me like that since we first started dating. I was just caught off guard, I guess.” 

“Oh.” I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t muster words. Pathetic. Stupid. I should’ve looked at her like that more. I should’ve shown her that I loved her more. God knows, she deserves that. She deserves the world. 

“Are those cinnamon cookies?” Her mouth went wide into one of those blindingly beautiful smiles. Pure joy splashed on her features as she ran toward the couch. It made me smile. It was so good to see her. So good to see her smile and blush and to hear that beautiful laugh and, 

“Oh my god. I missed these so fucking much.” To hear her talk with her mouth full. A habit she never quite grew out of but I don’t mind. I’ve never minded. It’s endearing. She’s endearing. 

A couple of minutes of small talk later, we are on the couch, fireplace on, sipping our tea and quietly snuggled underneath a big blanket. We are not cuddling, just sitting and catching up and it’s nice. 

“Ready to talk?” I say, mustering up courage, as I put my mug down. She looks shocked. I was never the one to initiate these kinds of things. But I’ve made progress, and I want to prove to her that I can be better. That I’m working on myself and that I am someone she can learn to trust again. 

“Yes. Definitely.” 

We put our mugs down on the coffee table and turn to each other. I take a deep breath. I can do this. 

“I want to start by saying sorry. I want you to know that I regret that night with all my heart and those things that I said, they weren’t true. Nothing I said that night was true. And I want,” The familiar feeling of my chest tightening with guilt and sadness and my nose burns like I’m going to cry and no. I will not cry. Deep breath. Deep breath. 

I feel her hand slowly slip into mine. An anchor. I am grateful. I squeeze, I breathe, I start again. 

“I want you to know how grateful I am for you. You’re patient and caring and you make me feel so safe and accepted and I couldn’t be more thankful. I’ve been going through some... stuff these past months. I’ve been scared and anxious and I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t ready to face all the things I had to face. I’m still scared and nervous, but having you helps me be a little less scared and a little more strong. I want to keep loving you and fighting for you and bettering myself for you.” 

I give her hand a little squeeze. She’s holding back tears. I am too. 

Don’t cry, I remind myself. I scrape the side of the emptying courage bowl. I need as much as I can get for this next sentence. 

“I’m asexual.” 

The next few seconds pass in silence. My heart pounds loudly as I search her eyes for disgust or confusion. I expect her to push me away. To say she doesn’t love me. To say she needs what I can’t give her. 

I can’t find it. All I can find are acceptance, and love and, tears?

Through choked sobs and my deafening heartbeat, I can’t hear much, but I can make out the words “proud” and “I love you” and that’s all I want. That’s all I need. 

Her love. 

She pulls me into her arms, holding me tight, and I feel at home. All the anxious thoughts, insecurities, doubt and shame and guilt that have been haunting me for the last 5 months are drowned out by soothing sweet words, and blissed-out “I love you”’s. Tears stain both our shirts but neither of us dares to pull away, and the next few hours pass quickly in her warm embrace.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but crying tends to wear you out. I wake up on top of a sleeping angel and the little snores coming out of her mouth give me a reason to live. A smile takes over as I gently move closer and give her soft squishy cheeks some soft kisses. 

There's a smile and then some sleepy giggles and then a little bit of whining and teasing face pushing as she goes “stop, I'm trying to sleep,” drawing out the vowels in ‘stop’ and ‘sleep’. It's exceedingly cute and I can’t help but want to hear more of those laughs and see more of her smile. 

“But you’re so cute and sweet, and breathtaking and I just want to hold you, and love you forever.” She laughs that adoring laugh that I love, swatting my hands away and lighting up my life with her smile. 

Peeking one eye open, she says, 

“Well, I never said you can’t do that, my sweet cherry pie.” and she pulls me down into a gentle yet firm and tender kiss. I can feel my face growing warm and my heart feels full to burst as I remember when she first gave it to me. 

It was one of our first dates together, and the evening was so wonderful. Charming and romantic and fun and I felt so calm and happy with her by my side. As we ordered dessert, she asked for a chocolate brownie with ice cream and I asked for a cherry pie. I still remember her fake gagging noises as I laughed and claimed it was my favorite.

“I don’t think I could date someone who doesn’t appreciate the blessing that is cherry pie,” I smirked as I crossed my arms. Before I knew it, she was smirking back, leaning across the table and wrapping her warm mouth around mine. As we pulled away, she whispered, 

“You’re my cherry pie.” Then she pecked my lips quickly and sat down, flipping through the menu as if she didn’t steal my heart right then and there. 

After that, the name just stuck, but I haven’t heard it in so long and I feel a flood of new happy, beautiful emotions flowing through me through her. I will never stop being so lucky. 

However, the joy is not long-lived. Doubt fills my mind, and I feel myself starting to fidget under her touch. 

“Bax?” 

Her thumbs rub over the skin just underneath my shirt and the intimate, loving touch starts to soothe my anxious mind. I could probably fall back asleep right here in her safe arms, but something is eating at me and I am determined to voice my worries to her. I need to show her that I’ve changed, even if it’s just a little. 

“Hmm?” 

“You got to talk right? About what’s bothering you?” Her eyes stay trained on the ceiling and a smile graces her face. I think that I must have the most love-struck look on my face because that smile, that smile is everything. 

“Well, no, but-” Immediately, the calm is washed away anger. Angry at myself for not addressing this sooner. Not addressing her needs sooner. I sit up immediately, shifting off her and pull her up too. 

“Would you like to talk about it now?” I hope it’s not bad, but I also know that bad or good, I want to listen to any and everything she has to say. 

“Oh, um,” She looks shocked and a little nervous. Maybe I was too abrupt. Too forward. I slip my hands into hers and hold them. Offering her the warmth and support and love that she always offered me without fail or hesitation. 

“I guess I was a little scared of you that night. I know you were angry and I understand now that you didn’t mean it and that you were hurting, but you threw a glass at me. I guess not at me. At the wall, but it was still near me. For the first time, I was scared of what you could do, and what you were capable of...”

A visible gulp. Her hands slip out of mine. It hurts. I understand why, but god, does it hurt. 

Everything feels cold.

“I need some time before I can trust you again.”

The all too familiar feeling of guilt stabs through my heart like a knife. Shattering what was once whole. I hate myself for wishing it would go away. I deserve it. I did that. I fucking hurt her. I hurt the person I love most in the world.

I don’t want her to be scared of me. I want to love her and protect her, but if the person she needs protecting from is me, what do I do then? 

I swallow the lump in my throat before mumbling out a weak and pitiful, 

“I don’t want you to be scared of me.” I curse myself for sounding so goddamn pathetic. 

I look her in the eyes, so she knows that I am being fully honest when I say my next words.

“I promise to never, ever, hurt you again.” I think, or rather hope, that I didn’t sound nearly as pathetic before. I want my words to mean something. 

I force the next words out. They are hard, almost unbearable, but I need to say them. She needs to know. After all, if you love something, set it free. 

“Do you,” I lick my lips, trying to gather some form of courage; some strength. My hand holds onto the blanket so hard, my knuckles turn white. Say it. Say it, you coward.

“Should we,” How do I phrase it? How do I say it? I don’t want to. Every fiber of my being wants her. I don’t want to give her up, but she shouldn’t stay with me unless its completely her decision. It hurts just to say these words. 

“Do you want to break up?” The words are rushed, almost incoherent, but they are out there. Floating around us. Taunting me. 

“No!” She stopped. I can hear the word echoing in my brain. I don’t say anything. 

The next part came after a lot of hesitation. 

“I, I don’t think I can live without you. I don’t know if it’s healthy. I don’t know how to feel right now, but I love you. I know that I love you, and,” A breath gets exhaled. It’s hers. I can’t breathe. I’m too afraid to. 

“I want to work on us.” 

Hope. She wants this too. She’s willing. She won’t regret this. She won’t.

“I’m going to therapy and exercising. Like you always encouraged.” A small breathy laugh. It’s a little watery. Please don’t cry. 

“I’m,” Swallow down the fear. Be open. “I’m getting better. For you. And me,” I hold my hand out. She slowly slips her soft hand in mine. I lean down and softly, but quickly plant a small kiss. 

“For us.” Her eyes are big through her glasses, I can’t read her emotions. I can only hope that they are good. The insecurities start to grow, but no. No. Not now. Be strong. “I hope in time, you can learn to trust me again. I hope we can grow, and be better together.”

She squeezes my hand. There is no smile. But there's hope shining in her eyes. I hope she can see it in mine too. 

“Thank you.”


	6. intimacy; a learning curve

I’ve learned a lot in the past year. There’s still so much more to learn about everything from life to love to acceptance but Bax always celebrates my accomplishments with me. She’s there to pick me up when I slip and I’m there to catch her pieces before they fall. 

In time, trust is established again. It takes a lot of hard work, lots of heartbreak and talking and understanding, and soon, we fight without flinches and scared touches. 

The first few months were hard, but now Bax and I often drive to my therapy sessions together and she’s there with ice cream and cherry pie if I’ve had a bad day.

We learn more about asexuality together, taking it one day at a time. We talk and make sure that communication is the number priority as we make sure that Bax feels the intimacy and love she deserves and needs, and I don’t feel numb myself to any activity we engage in. We set boundaries, and have long discussions that run well into the early hours of the morning but we understand each other better now than ever. 

It was hard for Bax to get used to intimacy without sex, it was confusing and new, and stressful. But we took baby steps and we made it. 

March 23rd 

Distraction. Bad day. Sex. I can feel it in the familiar push of her body against mine. The way her tongue enters my mouth, the way she pushes me toward the couch, not hard but firm. The need for something mind-numbing. I want to give that to her, but I can’t. Not in the way she desires. 

“No, wait, I-” My heart felt heavy as I pushed Bax off of me, but I can’t. It’s not fair to her. Or me. 

“Bax, I,” It’s still hard to say it. But I should. It’s important. My feelings are important too. I don’t need to voice these though, because when I look back up realization has spread across her face. 

“Oh shit. Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” And she’s about to cry, but it’s okay. I’ve learned that it’s okay to cry. 

“It’s okay. Old habits.” I reassure her with a lopsided smile, but tears are still coming down. I carefully brush a strand of her wavy hair off her face and hold her cheek in the palm of my hand. 

“We’re okay. Would you like to talk about it?” I keep my palm on her face, gently rubbing tears away. She shakes her head, no, and then, 

“Not yet,” a whisper, barely there, barely alive, but it's enough. “Can you just, hold me? For a while.” 

“Of course.” 

The silence is calming, our two heartbeats melding together as one, as I wrapped her up in my arms. I whisper soothing words into her neck, plant soft, lingering kisses on her forehead and the occasional tickle. 

Soon she’s smiling again, beautiful and radiant on her bright face and I kiss her lips; smooth, slow, sensual. I’m real. I’m here. 

“Thank you.” I hear a quiet murmur before her breaths start to even out and I watch the slow rise and fall of her chest. 

June 13th 

Office jobs are exhausting. No one smiles, everyone is a drone, trying to get through the day until they can get home. I am no better. The ache of my fingers from clicking that damn mouse. The headache from the lady who had the nerve to yell at me because her son wasn’t coming to school. Maybe you should keep a better eye on your child. The screaming pain in my shoulders, and neck and back from being hunched over all day in that damn chair. Every part of me hurts, and yet, 

“Hi, sweetie.” I can’t help but smile. I absentmindedly drop my bag by the door, discarded somewhere along with my shoes and flop onto her lap. 

“I want to quit,” I mumble into her thigh. She laughs and runs a hand through my short black hair. 

“You sure say that a lot, love.” 

“Because it’s true.” 

“Mmm.”

There's a couple of beats of silence and then, 

“Massage?” 

I am blessed. Truly and holy, blessed. 

“Please.” 

I go to our room and strip naked, lying on my stomach on the bed. As smooth fingers lovingly pass over every aching inch of my body, I feel soothed. I feel pleasure. The sensual and pure and unrelenting love and intimacy from her soft touches make me moan. It’s ours and it’s special. A new level of closeness, we can explore and one that I can fully indulge in without numbing myself. 

“Thank you. I,” My voice dies, my heart tightens and the feeling of love and happiness is overwhelming. A tear slips down my cheek. 

“Shhh, I got you. Let me take care of you.” She whispers. Her hot breath tickles my ear. I relax and let myself enjoy her touch. 

August 31st

It’s a bad day. I feel it in my chest. In my head when I got up in the morning, and the thoughts take over before I even have a chance to kiss my girlfriend good morning. It’s a bad day. 

Anxiety, insecurities, doubt. 

You’re doing that wrong. She hates you. You’re not good enough. She deserves more. She deserves better. I know. I know she does. 

Shut up. Leave me alone. 

shut up 

Shut up. 

SHUT UP! 

“Drew? Sweetie? Answer me?” I can hear her through the door. She’s worried. She deserves better. Someone stronger. 

“Cherry pie,” Her voice soft, and smooth, like velvet. “Please.” 

“I’m scared,” I whisper into the lonely darkness. It consumes me, surrounds me, traps me, but I can feel her soothing presence through the door. 

“I’m here. You’re not alone. You’re not going through this alone.” And I need her. I need her embrace, need her scent, need her body. I need her around me, protecting me. 

I unlock the door, the lock clicking loud and clear and she’s right by me. Holding me, and I’m crying. Pathetic tears ruining her clothes. 

“I’m sorry.” I choke out. The words sound ugly coming out of my mouth. But I am. I’m sorry. 

Her embrace is tight and her body becomes my anchor. I hold on for dear life. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, lovely.” She kisses my tears away. “Nothing at all.” 

An hour later, we sit in the tub. I'm in her lap, naked bodies pressed close and I can feel her heartbeat. A soothing constant reminder that this is real. The voices aren’t. 

There is a pile of 4 or 5 books piled up beside the tub. We are reading to each other; taking turns reciting the different scenes in our favorite novels and reveling in the soothing music of each other’s soft voices. It’s calming. And intimate. And real. 

It drowns out the voices. A gentle, warm, toothy pull on my ear pulls me out of my thoughts.

“Hmm?” 

“Were you listening, cherry pie?”

If the smirk on her face is anything to go by, she knows I wasn’t. And she’s not mad. 

“Sorry,” A calm whisper. There’s a smile on my face.

“I love holding you.” I am pulled closer to her body by a tight embrace. 

“I love being with you and loving you.” Warm, soft, slow lips on my cheek. “I’m glad you were honest with me all those months ago. I’m glad I get to share this with you.” 

Our eyes meet and I can feel myself getting lost in them and my body heats up and my nose starts to burn. 

And, because I’m a softie and she knows I’m a softie, especially for her sappy words, my vision blurs and the hot liquid is on the move and there are small breathy laughs escaping from both of us. 

Books are long forgotten on the cold tile beneath us, I lean up and kiss her, pouring all my love into it because I want, no, need her to know how much I love her. My tears wet her cheeks but she giggles into the kiss and then I’m laughing too and the voices slowly fade away. 

Resting my head on her chest, I give her a little kiss on her collarbone. “I love you, cinnamon cookie.”

A quiet breathy laugh and “I love you too, cherry pie.”


	7. intimacy; an understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soft and fluffy,,, that's it. that's the chapter.

Weeks turn into months and once again, we fall into a routine. Soft sleepy mornings; work often pushed back by the promise of just “one more kiss”. Busy afternoons, meeting after meeting is exhausting and most days Bax comes home and doesn’t want to look at another computer screen. I can’t blame her. Office jobs suck. But at the end of the day, we hold each other close and whisper promises of forever into each other’s bare bodies. 

Those days of hastily and mind-numbingly stripping clothes off and filthy words growled into the dark of night are gone; replaced with slow sensual touches, long baths, and engaging discussions. We are intimate, now more than ever. 

Occasionally, doubt and insecurities flood my mind and I worry if Bax needs more. If she’s lacking in the sexual aspect or if she misses it. But with time it gets easier to voice these worries out to her and she holds me close and reassures me that I’m all she needs. 

It makes me feel whole. 

A sleepy October morning, the wind howls outside and rustic orange, red and yellow faded leaves dance across our window. 

Sleepy kisses find their way into my cheek and I laugh fondly. Wrapping my two arms around the light of my life, I kiss her back, just as sleepy, just as loving. 

Pulling back to hold her face in mine, I carve every freckle, every pimple, and every wrinkle into my brain because I wholeheartedly love this face. I love her heart, and brain, and humor. I’m addicted. 

“See something you like?” 

“Yes, yes I do.” I hold her and I envelop her in my arms and I will never let this beauty go for as long as she’ll have me. 

I hope she can feel the love I feel for her as strongly as I do. I hope she knows that I will never again hide bits of myself away and I will never hurt her. I hope she knows. 

“You’re always so warm. I could stay in your arms forever.” 

“There’s no place I’d rather be.” 

I love this woman. 

12:30 pm rolls around on our day off and I have to admit that I had a bit of trouble getting to therapy for the first time in a while. 

“My sweet sweet cherry pie.” 

“Bax, my love, I have to get ready.” 

“I know,” She says but her arms were still tightly secured around my waist. I look back and she’s giving me those pleading eyes and god, this woman will be the death of me. 

“Okay, just 10 more minutes.” 

The look of joy washes away any reservations I have and honestly, I don’t think my therapist will be that upset. 

Then 12:49 pm rolls around and I am dressed and ready. Car keys in hand, and I just can’t seem to make it past the entrance.

“One more.” She says with a smile and puckered lips and yeah, okay, one more. 

I peck her lips but she grabs my waist and holds me tight and I can feel her smiling. My hands instinctively go around her waist and I can feel myself smiling too and her mouth is warm and her embrace is warm and I love her. I love her so damn much. 

“Yeah, I can’t go to therapy today,” I speak into the phone, feeling a little guilty. I haven’t missed an appointment in so long, but as I look at Bax, happily picking out a movie and snuggled in about 5 blankets, I can’t help but let those feelings go. 

She deserves a day. We deserve a day. 

The lady on the phone, who I’ve come to know as Barbra, who also enjoys the same cinnamon cookies as Bax, takes on a teasing tone. 

“Someone holding you back today?” It’s all light-hearted. I’ve come to love her teases and patience. 

“I think she deserves some pampering today.” 

“You always say that.”

“Because she always does.” 

“Okay, you two. Have fun. I’ll let Masha know that you won’t be here today, but I expect to see you on Monday.” There's a small pause and then, “With cookies.” 

“Deal. I will see you on Monday, with cookies.” I laugh and there’s an ease and I feel so happy and free and it’s wonderful. 

“Is that Barbra? Tell her I said ‘hi’, Drew!” Too lovely. All mine, I remind myself as I look at her happy form, popping in a disk and munching on her cheese and crackers.

“Bax says ‘hi’,” I relay the message with a smile on my face, and there's a chuckle from Barbra. 

“Of course. You two have fun now. Bye.” 

“Thank you, bye Barbra.” I hang up the phone, feeling light. There's no guilt like when I first used to call out. There’s no ache in my chest anymore. I don’t feel stressed, anxious and angry nearly as much as I did a year ago. 

The warm cinnamon and vanilla scent wafts around the kitchen as the cookies heat up in the oven. I can’t take my eyes off her as she relaxes into her blanket cocoon, smiling at the TV as the movie begins. Titanic. She’s such a sap, and I love it. She catches my glance and, flashes me one of her priceless smiles. 

I can’t believe I almost lost you. 

As I take the cookies out of the oven and plop them on a plate, my heart cracks. As I walk toward the love of my life, my heart bursts. And when I sit down next to her, reveling in her life, in her warmth, and in her love, my heart bleeds. 

“My sweet cherry pie.” 

“My cinnamon cookie,” 

“God, I love you.” The words are jumbled and hot against my lips. I smile. 

“I love you more.”


	8. intimacy; the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> epilogue :3

cold December afternoon (over a year later)

The old hinges on the door squeak loudly, there are key’s jingling, and then there are loud happy barks and nails tapping against the hardwood floor and the sounds fill my heart with domestic bliss. 

“Lemon! There’s my girl!” A small weight knocks me over and a cold wet tongue is lapping at my face. Hopelessly happy, I give her all the cuddles and scratches her heart desires. After a while, she leaves to eat and I take the opportunity to wrap my arms around my unsuspecting fiance who gladly returns the gesture. 

“Hi,” Deep pools of chestnut sparkle with joy and I have trouble not getting completely and hopelessly lost in them. Then again, it’s always a blessing to see those gems. 

Her cheeks are flushed, ears cold and red, and little pants escape her mouth. She’s shaking, barely noticeable, but I see. I never want to take my eyes off her. She’s a work of art. Breathtaking. 

“Hi,” A little breathless, quiet whispers into the bubble that surrounds us. She sways slightly, resting her head on my chest, face cold but I wouldn’t want her to ever move. My heart skips a beat. She definitely noticed. 

“Nervous?” Two years ago, my answer would have been ‘yes’. But now, standing in the doorway in the arms of the person who I’ve never felt more myself with, I know that nervousness isn’t what I’m feeling. Not anymore. 

Happy. Warm. Secure. Accepted. Loved. Safe.

Yeah, that’s what I’m feeling. 

“No,” I whisper, my hold tightening, and I can feel her grip tighten too. “Not anymore.” 

We stand for, god knows how long, basking in the comforting scent of lavender, dog food, vanilla; appreciating the home we have made in each other and knowing that together, we are safe. We are loved, we are accepted and we are intimate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end! i hoped you enjoyed my little attempt a short story! comment below if you'd be interested in a little bonus of how lemon got her name! it's pretty cute lol

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i hope anyone who does read this will enjoy drew's journey and can maybe even relate to her a little bit! what do you think so far? love her? hate her? let me know in the comments below :)


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